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Vexren4000 Dec 2017
A stringed amalgamation,
Of painted wooden pieces,
Dancing to the puppeteers whims,
Most men forget that,
Even humans have,
A puppeteer,
Manipulating strings.

©BAS
Ako Jun 2017
He is sad 
As he is a bet 
He is dead 
Is all they bet.

All they want is a bet 
Causing his life to be a duet 
Between him and regret 
All he knows, his life is a threat.

He knows, he is just an epithet 
His tears making him wet 
A brief vignette 
They turn him into a marionette.
Jamie Hui May 2017
Once upon a time... not too long ago
You told me that you loved me and that you would go and help me grow
I was but a block of wood, you carved delicately
Creating me into a doll ever so elegantly
Painting precise intricate details eloquently
Doe eyes, rosy cheeks, sun-kissed lips; your compassion showed evidently
Sunrise after sundown, my love grew for you genuinely
Months had passed, and seasons followed
Blissful memories, euphoric moments, fleeting hours; borrowed
Left with a barren soul, bone dried driftwood, abandoned; hollowed
Your neglected Marionette, once glowed, now dull with dust
Loveless wooden puppet fading, metal joints rust
Instead of adoration reflected in painted eyes, it’s now mistrust
Yet still bound to you by more than just these strings and rings
I’m chained to you, but not by mere material things
I would have done anything with just a twist of your wrist because you used to adore me
Marionette and her Manipulator; a Stockholm Syndrome-like love story
A classic literary tale that’s lost all its profound romantic glory
A Puppeteer wrenching till I’m dangling upon severed wires
Strung along filthy pavements, dropped into grimy potholes; I’m tired
Blood sweat and tears, love became my biggest fear
When I needed and longed for you; you’d not appear
Every single emotion to the smallest detail; controlled
Each slight movement without exception foretold
A Ventriloquist voicing every word caught in my throat
Your time of day to me you once did devote
With roughened yet soft hands holding my body close
Crooked smile spreading upon lips as you gently tap my nose
Soothing fingers running through my hair; it was me you chose
Your passion drained out like the now dried bouquet of roses; romantic doses
An author of the finest of fictions; poems, and letters to me once composed
Now I hang in your hands upon limp worn out strings, ready to dispose
Time and actions have shown the truth behind your spoken words; exposed
And it blows air kisses of nothingness
And you know what I’m tired of this, Your High-Neglectfulness
What used to be a loving hand became a hateful rod
And you still think you’re some kind of god, but you’re just a facade
I’ve seen the way you caress those other dolls; infidelity not discreet
Honeyed words slip off those lips, drip; a game you cheat
All tricks and no treat, candy wrapped lies that tasted too sweet
Deliciously virulent deception rolling off that tongue of yours
Bending to your wires have given me enough torturous sores
How I wish I had been created with wings instead of decaying strings
And the strife it brings like squeaky swings that just keep squeaking, creaking
A forsaken Marionette who’s every move was to please you
Trapped in this dollhouse zoo, with no appreciation in view
So then I’ll sing, I’ve got no strings to hold me down
To force my smile and push me to the ground
I had strings, but I said no more
I cut these strings and stepped out the door
You’re no longer my master, nor my sky
I’ll fly without you and my oh my
More so than Pinnochio I cannot tell a lie
Even my wooden wings can fly
Breeze-Mist Aug 2016
I wonder if my life
And all of its things
Is held up by
A set of strings
It just seems to me
That every day
Someone else
Is deciding my ways
I wonder if
I am really me
Or if someone else
Decides who I'll be

And I wonder if
I'll lose this bet
And remain
A marionette
I wonder if
I should be this way
Or if it's better
To break away

What I wonder most
In all of these things
Who is the one
Pulling these strings
Is it someone close
Or a large crowd
That keeps me from saying
What I wish to aloud

And I wonder if
I'll lose this bet
And remain
A marionette
I wonder if
I should be this way
Or if it's better
To break away

If I break these strings
Will I crash as I fall
Or will I learn
To fly above it all

And I wonder if
I'll lose this bet
And remain
A marionette
I wonder if
I should be this way
Or if it's better
To break away
nn Aug 2016
even when i am winged
i am benign,
i am beginning.
walking with my feet tied
so loosely to the concrete
by puppet strings;
made of words & cream
& other fragile things not
to be touched,
only to dream.
a marionette trembling
with grabby fingers pulling & drooling
oil onto my chest -
heavy, but it will leave me
slick not sticky,
ready for the finale.
i am holding on so desperately to my hopes but i am capsizing
Pauline Morris Mar 2016
Sitting out on a bench
Thinking, maybe I should run and impale myself on that fence
In the garage at the beams I take a glance
Maybe I should tie a rope and do the marionette death dance
Swallow a bunch of pills
Or take a gun and cure my ills
I knew there was a price for love
Now watch me fall with that finale shove
Falling down that rabbit hole
Will I come back, I really don't know
The Wordsmith Feb 2016
The words I create, I rarely do comprehend,
The meanings behind them, the messages they do send,
I am not the poet or the god, I am just the messenger,
A marionette in the masterpiece theatre,
Am I the created or am I the creator?
The contemplations of a poet as he struggles to understand himself and who he is and his role as a poet.
ryn Dec 2015
.
*    |                                       |                                              |
    |                                       |                                              |
    |                                       |                                              |
     |                                    •arches                                      |  
   |                                 up top bef-                                   |
   |                               ore tapering                                   |
   |                                   down to                                      |
   |                   ­                    the                                           |
    |                                         ­                                            ooo
       |                   ooo    bottom•a sym-      ooooo         ooo    o
   |              oooo    bol that holds my en-     oooo      ooo
|       oooo        tirety for ransom•a hos-      oooooo  
|   ooo              tage situation that made          ooo    
ooo                   me so willing•truss me                      
  ooo              up, bound...  i am not                      
oo            fighting•call this in-              
          oo            sensibility... name                         
ooo                  this foolery•i am                   
   ... but a branch
dangling off
|                           a  tree•                            |  
|                call                           thus            |  
|           me   an                        i   am           |  
|          idiot... la-                 the doll,          |    
|            bel  me a              from  oth-         |    
|            nitwit•for          ers, set far          |    
|                i only                    apart•           |    
|     have my                             i am the     |    
| strings...                                      marione-    
i am but                                             tte who's
a limp                                                        after
pup-                                              your
    ­ pet•                                         heart•
*
.
By far the toughest concrete poem I have ever attempted!

Concrete Poem 29 of 30

Tap on the hashtag "30daysofconcrete" below to view more offerings in the series. :)
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Lilly frost Jun 2015
Marionettes
All tied to the stage
Battered and broken
Begging for every token
Puppets for our masters
Walking disasters
Refusing to fall down
Standing on The stage now
Don't forget to bow down
You don't wanna stand out
Long to be free and roam out of your skin
But you would be punished and further broken
Beggin
Pleading
On your knees repeating
Marionettes all tied to the stage
Battered and broken
Begging for every token Puppets for our masters
Turning into crawling disasters
You long to see
What's on the other side
Could there be a good side
After all this time
How could it be
So hard to find
Yet so easy to see
But your broken
Bleadin
On your knees repeating
Over and over again
I am a marionette
Tied to the stage
Battered and broken
Begging for every token
A puppet for my master
A walking disaster
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